


Sunlight and Night, Summer and Winter

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Affection, Brother/Sister Incest, Butterflies, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Compare and Contrast, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, M/M, Moths, Sibling Incest, Slash, Symbolism, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was...safe with Alan, with Alan he needed not mince his words. Lucille, Lucille, needed things her way or he would feel terrible before she even went off at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight and Night, Summer and Winter

Thomas sighed in content as Alan nudged closer in sleep. Then he of course felt guilty for thinking Alan was better than Lucille because Alan actually liked sleeping with him. Lucille didn't like sleeping close together because it got too hot under the blankets anytime of year and Alan didn't care. His vow to Lucille all those years ago ? He hadn't truly understood the concept, hadn't understood what love was supposed to be like. No, he had just been so terrified of losing her that he had said the words regardless. Alan's love was as different from Lucille's as there were physical differences between the two.

Alan and Lucille were truly like sunlight and night, Alan with his golden blond hair and Lucille with her hair black as onyx. While Alan let him make actual decisions with Lucille more oft than not he merely parroted her wishes. Even though Alan didn't know why he woke up crying from his nightmares Alan didn't tell him to, "Be a bloody man for once and get over it." or say, "You're a disgrace to the Sharpe name, Thomas." like Lucille did. He was safe with Alan, with Alan he needed not mince his words or pretend at coldness. Lucille, Lucille, needed things her way or he would feel terrible before she even went off at him. 

It was like Lucille's theory on butterflies needing sunlight to live and moths the night. He was the butterfly and Alan, Alan, was his sunlight and Lucille was the night, his moth, slowly, but inexorably eating away at him. If she knew about himself and Alan she would kill him by driving Alan away. That was another thing, Alan didn't get jealous when his gaze unconsciously wandered whereas Lucille afterward would demand sex to prove that he belonged to her and no other. He loved the summer because that was when he had met Alan for the first time and he hated the winter because that was when Papa had abandoned him. Yet he also loved the winter because Lucille became playful when the snow fell. The one thing that he truly loathed was that thanks to propriety he couldn't kiss either of them in public, unless it were some deeply shadowed alley.

By God, his life, his complicated life - in love with not only his big sister, but also with a man, an American man at that. Lucille hated Americans for, "Thinking themselves better than us after daring to abandon the proper way of life. If they knew what was good for them they would have stayed colonists, Grandpapa died for nothing, little brother."

Suddenly, Alan's lips moved against his throat sleepily slurring, "Why're you still awake, Thomas ? You don't need beauty sleep, but you do need sleep. Mm, sleep, love." Unlike Lucille, Alan was not afraid of using endearments in private rooms, whereas Lucille did so sparingly and only at home.

With another sigh he murmured, "I was thinking about things."

The tousled head raised itself, the blue eyes bleary, "What sort of things ?"

Thomas pressed a chaste kiss to Alan's lips, "I love you, Alan McMichael."

A faint smile, "That is a good thing, yes. I love you too, Thomas Sharpe."

When one was truly in love titles should not have mattered - whether one was a doctor like Alan, a baronet like himself or a lady like Lucille. It was sad that Lucille prized her title as Lady Sharpe and the Sharpe engagement ring more than him. It wasn't like that with Alan, probably because America didn't have the normal titles anymore. 

He lay down and his sleep-filled thoughts swirled into: sunlight and darkness, summer and winter, Alan and Lucille. It was an ouroborous and yet his mind would not let him have it any other way. 


End file.
